Every Hour
by i-write-ff-to-procrastinate
Summary: Just a quick oneshot with some Ironwitch: takes place after the Battle for Beacon.


Compared to the battlefield where she had been only moments before, the room that Glynda Goodwitch was now occupying was completely silent besides the ticking of the small clock above the door. It reminded her off the tower, and it made her feel sick. She sat on a small exam table, her legs dangling off the edge. She had kicked her heels off, leaving torn and dirty nylons. Her hands rested in her lap, fingernails broken or filled with dirt. Her glasses and riding crop were sitting at the edge of the table, near where she sat. She could feel her hair was tangled, her cheeks sticky from drying tears. She felt bruised in so many places. Blood was still oozing into the fabric of her shirt from her shoulder. Her hands were shaking so hard, or maybe her entire body was shaking, she wasn't sure. There was a click and the door below the clock opened.

"Ms. Goodwitch…?" Glynda was only able to respond with a nod. Without her glasses she couldn't discern the features of the young woman in front of her, a nurse of some sort, with blurry auburn hair and a white lab coat. Before the nurse could close the door, someone else came into the field of Glynda's vision, pressing his hand against the door.

"Glynda?" That voice was so familiar to her, and there was desperation in it.

"Miss Goodwitch is under examination, sir, you're going to have to wait—" There was a long pause, furtive whispers, and then the nurse was gone. James shut the door behind him. There was a long pause before either of them spoke.

"I've been looking for you," James whispered, "I was afraid…" He trailed off.

Glynda shook her head. He looked as bad off as she felt, perhaps worse, "You need medical attention, James."

"No. I have a duty to fulfill, Glynda," He hissed. She recognized that expression.

"James, this isn't your fault," she snapped.

"Ozpin is dead, Glynda."

"That isn't your fault!" Glynda said, standing slowly from the exam table. Her knees were shaking but she stood her ground.

"If I had just listened to him—"

"What? If you had just listened to him, then what? Nothing would be different! How could any of us have ever guessed this would happen? Stop being so selfish and—" She stumbled, her knees giving out, and she reached out to grab onto something, anything, but nothing was there. Before she could fall, strong hands grasped her arms, and James was holding her,

"Are you alright?" This close, she could see his expression clearly. Concern.

"I'm…" Tears weighed down her eyelashes, but she held them back. Before she could even think, her mouth was pressed to his. She was hungry for him, _desperate_ for him. He pulled her closer by her waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, clawing at his back, needing him. Needing touch. Needing _something._ He pulled away, pressing kisses down her neck, and across her collar bone. She kissed his jaw, his temple, tugged at his shirt, fiddled with his belt. Their mouths found each other again before reality came crashing back down on her and she stumbled out of his arms, tears escaping the prison of her eyelashes and splashing down on bruised cheeks, and then on to dusty clothing.

"Your shoulder…" James whispered, and then he was gently lifting her back up onto the exam table, and rummaging through drawers in the small room, pulling out bandages, and other first aid supplies. Glynda didn't protest. She couldn't speak without tears choking her. They were still steadily rolling off her lashes and down her cheeks.

"It's alright," James sighed, carefully cleaning her wound. His touch was warm against her skin. It took her back to their final year at the academy. She remembered how he had smelled back then. He reminded her of rainfall. She remembered the look in his eyes when he first admitted to her those life-changing words. They had been eighteen. _"I love you."_ She remembered…. God, she remembered how she had been unable to say anything in return. She remembered how he had left, how he told her he was leaving. She remembered how she had forced herself not to stop him from going.

"James…" She whispered.

"Sorry," he murmured, focused on the needle that he was threading through her skin. She couldn't feel it. She didn't care.

"James." This time he looked up and their eyes met. "I love you." The sound was sucked out of the room like a vacuum. He was frozen, eyes locked with hers.

"What…?" Tears broke free again and she was sobbing, and James grabbed her good shoulder with his free hand. "Glynda, you're in shock."

"No, please, listen to me," She gasped. "I love you. I've always loved you." She grabbed what was left of his collar and pressed her mouth to his again. He gently pulled away.

"Glynda, you're in shock," He said again, focusing on the needle. Glynda closed her eyes, clenching her fist. He was probably right. She opened her eyes again when she felt the needle hesitate. "I… love you too." The room was silent again, neither of them quite sure what to say next, and then the needle resumed its work. James tied off the stitches and carefully wrapped her shoulder with bandages.

"There," James whispered.

"How far until we land?" Glynda whispered.

"Not very long. We're just bringing everyone to the next city over. It's safer than being so close to Beacon…" He paused, shaking his head, "Glynda, I'm so sorry about…"

"It's not your fault," she said again, "Please don't apologize."

A small smile tugged at James' lips and Glynda offered him one in return. "I'll leave you to rest then." He said before turning towards the door. Glynda quickly grabbed his hand.

"Stay… please?" She watched the hesitation slowly vanish from his eyes, and he sat on the edge of the table with her. She rested her head against his shoulder, and after a moment he wrapped his arm around her. He loved her still… she had hoped, but barely hoped, that it was true. He loved her still. Would it always be an unspoken thing between them?

"James?"

"Hmm?" He murmured, his lips pressed against her temple.

"Will you promise me something, even if you have to lie?"

"Lie?" James laughed a little, but she didn't. Her hands were shaking again. James' metal hand rested on top of one of hers.

"Please… promise you'll never leave again."

"Glynda… You know I only left because I didn't think you wanted me."

"Just… promise me, even if it's not true. Promise." James sighed,

"I promise. Because I _will_ always be with you. Just a call away, you know. I do have things I have to take care of and answer for after this disaster… but I'm never too far for you."

And that was good enough. Glynda nuzzled against him, quickly kissing his jaw, and then just holding onto him tightly. And there was that unspoken thing. _I love you._ She hoped that one day they would both have the courage to say it aloud every week, every day, maybe even every hour. _I love you._


End file.
